


Tell Me You Can Feel It

by heavvymetalqueen



Series: Talk Dirty to Me [1]
Category: Metal Gear
Genre: (mentions) - Freeform, Dirty Talk, F/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, more like radio sex but you get my meaning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-27
Updated: 2017-04-27
Packaged: 2018-10-24 17:40:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,149
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10746612
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavvymetalqueen/pseuds/heavvymetalqueen
Summary: The sound through the earpiece is unmistakable. A wet, rasping tongue dragging over mylar-covered fingers.Lick me clean, she’s saying without words.





	Tell Me You Can Feel It

Venom takes a swig from his canteen, rinses his mouth, spits a glob of sand and dirty water into the dirt. The sandstorm is finally dying down. He found a somewhat sheltered hut but he still feels like there’s warm, sticky dust in every crevice of his body.

He taps his radio collar. Just static. Sandstorm must be wrecking hell on the relay towers. No way he can get in contact with Mother Base for now.

He can switch to a closer frequency, though.

“Quiet?”

“Hm,” she grunts in his ear.

“You okay? Found shelter?”

Quiet snorts. She hates, hates, _hates_ sandstorms. They dry her out. She’s always irritable when they get caught in one.

“Got enough in your canteen or do you need me to come water you?”

Quiet makes a raspberry sound that he’s come to interpret as her flipping him off.

“I wouldn’t mind,” he says, and his voice drops a little.

“Hmm.” Quiet’s voice is husky in response. She taps the radio mic twice.

 _Go on_ , it means.

“I have a full canteen,” he says, making it slosh close to his mic. “It’s not much, but I’m sure I can drip it slowly enough for you to enjoy it.”

“Hn.”

“I like it when you drink,” he whispers. “Your skin looks incredible, like diamonds.”

“Mmm.” He can hear the noise of her rifle lowering. The trickle of water. The hungry sizzle of her parasites.

“You’re doing it right now, aren’t you?”

“Hh.”

He swallows, thickly, tastes sand and blood. “But once the water’s all gone, you’d still be thirsty, wouldn’t you?”

The sound through the earpiece is unmistakable. A wet, rasping tongue dragging over mylar-covered fingers.

 _Lick me clean_ , she’s saying without words.

“Yeah. I would. Wash all the sand off you. Tastes like metal. You’re like pop rocks, you know that? Pop and fizz on my tongue when I kiss you.”

She laughs. It’s an actual giggle, so girly and cute it’s almost weird to hear come out from a bio-engineered human killing machine.

He loves her laugh.

“That bikini must be caked in mud now,” he chuckles. “I’d take it off. Untie it.”

Her bikini top is barely there most of the time, anyway. She’s explained to him, through gesturing, that it’s mostly to protect her nipples from chafing in the dirt when she lays down to snipe. He could rip it into shreds with a snap of his bionic and he has, at times, when adrenaline got the best of them and they rutted in the blood soaked grass of an overtaken outpost.

But they have time before the rusty voices of conscience call them back, and he’s gonna enjoy it.

He sits back against the wall, thumbing the outline of his cock through the sneaking suit.

“I love your scars,” he whispers, eyes closed, imagining running his lips down the jagged line from her throat to her sternum, the white tiger stripes across her ribs, the pale shrapnel pockmarks on her breasts, her left nipple that is a little misshapen ever since that rough encounter with the helicopter’s blades.

The whisper of fabric, the jangle of metal buckles. She’s taking off her top, her harness. Dragging damp hands over the rough lines Venom wishes he could trace with his tongue.

“You like mine too, don’t you?”

Quiet hisses. He knows she does. She’s run rough fingertips all over his face, following the complex map of his lines and cuts. She’s kissed every hole on his back and his chest, licked the deep white marks in his thighs. He touches them all through the thick material of the suit, his cock hard and straining the front.

They could recreate the other through the knowledge of their missing flesh alone. They are nothing but tired souls in a mass of scars, but together they are almost a person.

She makes a soft whimpering noise and Venom smiles.

“Are you touching yourself already?”

“Sss.”

“So impatient.”

A stomp of boot in the sand, a grunt.

“Shame you can’t leave your post right now. I’d love to eat you out.”

A frustrated, strained sound, the slick slide of fingered gloves between wet folds. She must have pulled her mic down with her hand to make him listen.

“You’re making me hungry now,” he growls.

She clicks her tongue, muffled under the quickening of her fingers.

“You remember that time outside Yakho Oboo?” He rumbles, licking his lips.

The wet squeak of her gloves lets him know she remembers. They had to wait for sundown, and they’d shackled up in an abandoned hut a couple miles away. It was so hot he felt the soles of his sneaking suit melt. She was burning with extra parasite energy from the sun at zenith. In the only corner of the hut that was shadowed, she’d dumped water on his head and then straddled his shoulders to ride his face, drinking hungrily off his tongue even as she came, syrupy sweet, down his chin.

“I’d love to push you against a rock and eat you out until you scream.” He undoes the front of the suit. Squeezes his cock, clammy glove on impossibly hot skin.

“V-Vh,” she stutters.

It’s the closest she’ll ever get to say his name, and it’s enough to get heat unfurling in his gut, his hand stroking himself faster. “Yeah. I’m close too. Let me hear it.”

He throbs in his hand when she cries out, strained and trembling.

“That’s right, ride it all out, that’s what I’m here for...”

She comes three times in rapid succession. She doesn’t need to catch her breath. Venom envies her, just a little bit, sometimes. Especially since she’s not the one that will have to spend the rest of the day with come stains on her stomach and glove.

“Mmm,” she mutters, languid and sated.

“Feeling better?”

The radio makes a wet, rustling sound. She kissed her mic. He pulls his collar up to kiss back.

 _Storm will clear shortly_ \- says the iDroid with shocking timing, just a few seconds before the radio crackles back to life.

“Boss, are you alright?” says Kaz, breathless and worried.

“We’re fine, don’t worry,” he chuckles. “Just a bit of sand.”

“Hopefully you found shelter.”

Quiet snorts mockingly.

“I didn’t mean _you_ ,” he hisses.

“We’re both fine,” cuts off Venom before they can start their weird posturing-slash-flirting again. “And we should get back on the road.”

Quiet grunts, and after a bit of shuffling she’s sprinting away in the fastest walk of shame there ever was.

Venom zips up his suit, finishing his canteen in a single swig.

Maybe once they’re done with this mission, he’ll have some time to make good on his promises.

From the way Quiet happily hums something that sounds a lot like The Heat Is On from her vantage point, Venom can tell she can’t wait, either.

 


End file.
